


Perplexity

by laEsmeralda



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In seeking serenity, Jingam contemplates the source for his resentment of Marco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perplexity

"You have referenced my serenity much of late, but you are not walking the path to your own," the Empress chided. "You mistake calm for attaining what you want. You must remain the most calm when coping with what you do not want."

"I know the teachings, Mother," Jingam replied with only a little chagrin. "The Latin moves where he should not dare."

"The boy has little choice. To disappoint your Khan results in maiming or death, not always of oneself. Do you wish that for him?"

"I wish him out of our lives."

Chabi smiled at him. "This is your curiosity frustrating you because you frustrate it. It is a gift that is strong in both your parents. Your father strives to learn everything in his domain, and everything beyond it. That is why he draws the stranger close. Why do you hold him away with so much to be learned?" She poured herself tea. 

"His presence disquiets me. I cannot name it." 

"You can, yet prefer not to," she replied, pointedly. Chabi sighed. "Even Kublai partakes on occasion of what you do not. The desire is natural enough. To avoid it out of fear is not strength." 

"If I were interested, I would not dissemble about it."

"I would be surprised if our child received everything from us but the ability to enjoy all sources of pleasure. But it is not for me to know. Only you."  
*******

The next day, he was leaving the audience hall when he heard Marco follow him.

"Prince, I beg a word."

He paused a good long moment before turning. He observed Marco struggling, as usual, for the best words in a strange language.

"I would correct whatever flaw has placed me beneath your notice."

It was a careful statement. Good then, Marco did not know of Jingam's visit to the prison cells, of the empathy he felt. "I take little notice of any of my father's exotic pets," Jingam lied. "But I did note something. At Kaidu's feast, you sat quiet whilst he insulted me at length."

Marco did not hesitate or search for words. "You did not respond. I thought that if I, as a mere servant of your father, appeared to take offense, it would give weight to his comments. It was only the chittering of a desperate man, angry that his ploy to borrow your father's glory had not worked. You were right to ignore him as you would a disruptive toddler."

Jingam regarded him at length. "When it went on, you volunteered to wrestle, vastly outclassed, in order to deflect attention. Yet, now, you do not mention that."

Marco did not answer, his odd green eyes were steady. 

"You are a perplexity. Very well, Master Polo, I have noticed you. You may come to regret it." With that, he turned and left.  
*******

"Send for Liangyu. And bring the Latin here, _freshly bathed._ He was in the practice yard earlier." 

It was late enough in the evening, and his father had retired, so that the only plans he could be disturbing would be the man's own, of little consequence. Two servants finished arranging a sumptuous pallet before the fire, and placed Jingam's favorite chair close by, with a table of refreshments at hand. He dismissed them. Liangyu would serve if need be. 

She arrived first, bowing. He knew this one oh-so well, though it had been at least a year since their last assignation. He drew her up and gave the name of her potential bedmate. "Is this truly to your liking?" he asked. "Not all the women wish to lie with their kind." He tipped her chin up and watched her eyes carefully, because of course, she would say, _yes_. He could see curiosity there, not revulsion. 

"I am avidly interested, my Prince." She was not a submissive woman by nature; it was what moved Jingam most about her, surrounded as he was equally by competitors and sycophants.

"Very well. You know I favor you and wish your labors eased, not made more difficult. He is likely to be put off by the circumstances," he added.

She smiled without a word. She had helped him over his own difficulty with onlookers. A khan is almost never alone and certainly cannot be _seen_ to falter. Jingam stroked her hair, feeling deeply sentimental. 

There sounded a tap on the doorjamb. He relaxed back into the chair and Yiangyu arranged his robes. "Enter." 

Marco summarily issued into the room, off balance, the panels closing curtly behind him. His hair was damp and the scent of detailed ministrations, perhaps not indulged in completely voluntarily, rolled forward. "Prince Jingam." Marco caught his balance and bowed deeply. His eyes drifted to Liangyu and surprise briefly registered at the insignia of advisor to the harem. If he was upset at the lateness of the hour, or the intrusion, he did not show it. Life with the Khan—clearly, he had adapted to interruptions at all hours and without explanation.

Jingam strove to appear at ease, despite a pulse currently worthy of a rabbit. He gestured to Liangyu. "I believe that you are acquainted, however, distantly. The lady has a curiosity and I am inclined to indulge her. I am informed that your time here has been celibate."

Marco flushed. A strange and oddly charming reflex. A teller of truth when the mouth might wish to lie. "There has been but one relief of that state since I arrived." He took in the pallet and chair. "Do you request that I humiliate myself, Prince?" he asked, carefully.

Jingam's smile was genuinely amused. "Had I wished you humiliated, the chairs would be more numerous." He tapped fingers on a knee. "I believe that you'll later be grateful that the harem will not be the stage for your first performance. You wished for me to notice you. I have noticed." 

The convulsive swallow almost made Jingam feel pity. He sighed. "I am not punishing you, Marco. You have helped my father understand many ways of the West. But he is too proud to ask for _this_ knowledge. A fact for which you should be eternally grateful. As a prince, it is my place to swallow my pride, as you have already observed."

He could see the many reactions behind Marco's eyes, inscrutability not being a Latin trait. At a nod from Jingam, Liangyu approached and circled behind Marco, reaching around to release the clasps on his long leather coat. Beneath, he wore a simple but clean cotton and silk longtunic in pale green, open to mid-chest, and trousers of similar fabric in mossy green. With deft hands, she turned him toward her, away from Jingam, facing the fire. 

She explored his face with long fingers, ruffling his beard, smoothing his eyelids closed and then allowing them to open. His hands remained at his sides as though he had not yet been invited to touch her. "Your skin is indeed different," she announced in a smoky voice. "It is soft, but in an unfamiliar way, with a downy covering of the tiniest white hairs. Your beard is much more rough than I am accustomed to, but I will bear it." She traced throat, collarbones. Then she reached down for his hands and examined them closely before saying, "Yes, these may touch me." She then placed them on her hips.

"Are you being… ordered to do this?" Marco's voice lowered to a more intimate level, but Jingam could plainly hear him.

Her eyes did not flick to Jingam for permission. "I was _invited_. I am sufficiently favored that my lord would not require me to touch you nor disfavor me for declining. Such is not the case for you." Her tone teased, but it was no less true. "We shall see if I can make you forget that he is here." With that, she rearranged his arms and began lifting the tunic over his head. 

Jingam cleared his throat lightly. "And I shall ensure that he does not forget." At first, he watched with detached curiosity. He had seen Marco practicing shirtless with Hundred Eyes on a number of occasions. As Liangyu's graceful fingers traced the topography of his shoulders and back, however, it seemed she was displaying him to his best effect. His wiriness of the road had refined into muscle with the food and exercise of court. And of course, Marco's skin could not help but respond to her, showing gooseflesh where she roamed. His breathing sped up, became more audible. His hands returned to rest lightly on her hips and went no further. 

She untied her own robe, leaving it to drape loosely around her, its opening beckoning to the shadows beneath. Liangyu tipped her face up to look into Marco's eyes. She was, Jingam reflected, a rare beauty. Not perfect. Not entirely symmetrical. And there were smile lines at her mouth and eyes. But she was striking in structure and skin. Her lips parted a tiny bit as though sipping a larger breath.

Marco moved then, his head dipping as he drew in to kiss her. So, the Latins knew this pleasure as well. Marco's hands tightened to hold her to him. 

Liangyu's hands threaded up Marco's neck and into his hair as she met his body with hers. She made a noise of genuine approval of what she found, and Jingam felt himself grow hard. He shifted subtly in his seat to relive the sudden pressure of his clothing. The kiss was long and involved, Liangyu was in no hurry to escape. Finally, she drew back, breathless herself. 

"Tell me, Tigress," Jingam murmured, letting slip a pet name. Marco startled, indicating that for a moment, he had forgotten they were not alone.

"He tastes fresh, healthy," she said, sounding surprised. "His lips are gentle, his tongue is strong but he does not invade like some do." She looked at Jingam. "He lacks your finesse, my lord, but he answers my mouth as though he seeks to know my rhythm rather than impose his own."

Jingam could see from the slippage at Marco's waistband that Liangyu was untying his trousers. He did not shy from the view as the narrow small of Marco's back gave way to highly rounded buttocks, indented at the outer curves, distinct from the female while seeming outrageously generous for a male. He felt himself respond, allowed it. He had never fucked the willing or unwilling offerings of men. But he could imagine how well he would be pillowed by this body, and it moved him.

The trousers slid fully off. Again, Liangyu explored, backside first, her eyes on Marco's face. Watching her hands made Jingam long to join her, to touch. Finally, her hands moved to the front and Marco actively stifled a groan. 

"How long has it been since this relief of which you spoke?" Liangyu asked sweetly.

Something she did made him catch his breath hard. "More than a month." 

Her smile turned predatory. "Do you see to yourself regularly? Or are you forbidden by your religion?" 

A pinkish hue spread across Marco's shoulders. This time, he had not forgotten that they were not alone. "I was not raised particularly adherent," he replied, sidelong. 

"I am trying to judge, with care, your state and how far I may go without spending you," she said.

His hands drifted to her shoulders and he gathered the excess silk of her robe there. "I have the honor of an offering from someone our Prince holds in esteem. Given your station and mine, I am unworthy of you, so I will owe a great debt to him and to you. For this treasured gift, I will withstand until your pleasure, on my honor."

It stunned Jingam to realize that Marco could grasp the cultural complexity of this. "Were you unworthy," he interrupted, "I would sooner gut you than allow you to touch her. This is, as you say, a gift. For protecting my father with your body. There is no debt." 

Marco released the fabric gathered in both hands and the robe slithered to the floor. "May I begin as I am accustomed?" he asked her. "Then, perhaps, you would be willing to show me some of your ways?"

Liangyu nodded. He scooped her up and lifted her onto the pallet, kneeling over her and freeing his hands to caress. His lips followed his hands. Jingam let his gaze roam freely and found himself pleased—he told himself—on Liangyu's behalf. Having inherited no small measure of his father's most famous (if less discussed) dimensions, he was by no means trumped. Marco was more than adequate and well-shaped without being comparative. It was well. 

Rather than hurrying to sheath himself, which he must be absolutely desperate to do, Marco settled in to administer the _sunning lotus_. Which Liangyu accepted with enthusiasm. 

Jingam's mouth grew dry. He reached for the plum wine. He had grown accustomed in the harem to only seeing women performing this on each other to any success. They tended to feign pleasure with a male partner whose attention to the form was often cursory. He had been taught by this very woman to do what few men bothered to learn well. Liangyu's eyes flashed open and sought his. He smiled gently at her and nodded. With his permission, her eyes closed, her shoulders nestled in the blanket. She had taught him that a woman must be allowed concentration for the lotus to properly bloom. 

Marco was patient. Jingam admired the sweep of Marco's back, enjoyed the fact that the man didn't realize his ass was canted up into the air. It would be all-too easy to mount him like that, to establish dominance in a particular way men of war recognized. A dish of butter was at hand. Jingam's body screamed at him to do it. He resisted. It was too important a threat to waste on an impulse. He focused instead on Liangyu's breathing and so had fair warning of her climax despite her quiet gasping. She had never been showy. 

Afterward, Marco sat back on his heels. He dabbed his beard with the back of his hand. He did not look in Jingam's direction. And then he took himself in hand, unsheathed, and thrust into her hard enough to draw a small cry. She did not sound pained. Her legs wrapped around the small of his back. 

It was, Jingam admitted to himself, splendid to watch the man fuck. His unbeautiful face attained a look of concentration rather than comedy. His muscular movements were smooth even when forceful. The way his ass flexed made Jingam throb. He let it all go on for several minutes. 

Jingam deduced Marco's strategy at last—to make himself desperate enough to withstand the cooling effect of his particular audience, to block out the watching. "Stop," he said, softly. Marco froze, his arms trembling. 

Rising from the chair, Jingam took two slow, barefooted steps to the pallet. He squatted and ran his fingers lightly from the crown of Marco's head, down his spine, and lazily circled along each side of his ass, down the back of each thigh. "You have stamina." He might have been examining a fine racehorse but for the aching of his cock. Liangyu watched him from beneath Marco, without judgment. 

"Withdraw," he commanded, and to his amazement, Marco immediately complied, pushing back to sit on his heels, cock bronze and gleaming with Liangyu's wet. It had to be singularly painful, to be brought to the brink and then denied. _No one has ever even tried to deny me_. As if in answer to his thought, a clear bead of Marco's fluid welled and dripped to the bedclothes, suspended by a shining thread. "I have your loyalty," Jingam said. "I see no fear in your eyes, only want tempered with discipline." He looked down to Liangyu. "Show me what I need to know." He began stripping off his own clothing, a severe breach of protocol in the presence of underlings. 

She sat up and reached for his hand, drawing him to the bed as soon as he was naked. He expected Marco to scramble off the other side, but the man seemed shocked to inaction, befuddled. Perhaps he only thought Jingam to be overwrought and intent on taking his place between Liangyu's thighs. 

Liangyu placed a hand on Marco's furred cheek and the other on Jingam's smooth one. Her hands then slid to the nape of both necks and fiercely pulled them together. She slipped a leg behind Marco so that when he startled away, he didn't go far. Jingam pursued and took his mouth, tasting his long-time lover and something entirely new. Marco struggled beneath four hands, but it was not a forceful struggle, more confusion in movement. And then he relented, went still. It was a lush kiss. Jingam lingered until the passivity troubled him. He drew back, his hands still tight on Marco's shoulders. 

"It might surprise you to know that I am not interested in your surrender." His voice sounded husky in his own ears. 

A slow blink. "It does surprise me. Although I find that is _not_ the most surprising thing about the past few minutes."

"Your people are prudish about this, I recall."

"Worse. It is forbidden. Those who partake are damned to the inferno after death."

"But you are not an adherent. A skeptic, rather. Perhaps it will help you to know that I have never indulged before now."

Marco glanced at Liangyu, his brow furrowing. "Why not? If you are inclined. You do not fear eternal punishment as my people do."

Jingam did not answer him. Instead, he approached again, more slowly, giving him time to shy away. Marco didn't, met him firmly. In this kiss, Jingam felt a certain triumph, the absence of the quick anger he often felt toward this man. He now understood it. Calm suffused his mind even as his body roared at the flames. Hands slipped tentatively along his back, and they were not Liangyu's. 

He paused and turned to kiss her, gratefully. He felt in her the renewal of arousal. And then he returned to Marco's mouth, understanding better now what she had said about the man's seeking of the partner's rhythms. 

She took one of his hands in her strong grip and removed it from Marco's shoulder. He let her guide him, knowing where she took him, and when his hand brushed flesh, he grasped it. Marco groaned. In a moment, he felt oil trickle over his fingers, captured it, and put it to good use. Marco's breath rushed in and out against his cheek. He did not imagine that a man so deprived could withstand much more. 

Suddenly, Marco's hand, with Liangyu's guidance, wrapped around him. More oil. He growled. 

Liangyu chuckled and moved away. "A woman is not needed to teach men how to touch themselves." She reclined where she could still see. 

Indeed not. He employed his favorite slow twists. Marco added his other hand and mirrored the movements, adding a sweep at the base. 

Jingam left the kiss and bit lightly into Marco's neck just below his ear, tasting salt and a male edge to the sweat. He said, "A little while ago, I could have buried myself in you before you could have stopped me. Fucked your untrained ass." A gasp in response. Fearful surprise? Unexpected desire… Jingam stroked harder. Administered another bite. "Whenever you want to curse me, remember that I chose not to hurt you that way." 

Pleasures both mundane and exotic had been lavished on him throughout his life to balance the strictures of his role. Since he had turned twelve, he had been able to resist orgasm until he chose to let go. Locked in this new embrace, with Marco groaning in hopeless joy, he had to fight himself harder than he ever had. The wet that smacked him under the chin had to be Marco's.

"Riverdragon!" Liangyu hissed in his ear. Long ago, he had given her a word so that in tantric embrace, he could transfer his physical self to her and continue to meditate, while she chose the time of their release. His back arched and he poured into Marco's hands, crying out to a night sky that he couldn't see. 

_Thank all that is holy for women._ He was sitting back on his heels, chin on his chest, arms slack at his sides, nearly senseless. Liangyu was busy with a linen cloth and jasmine water, a task no longer asked of her. Marco had fallen to his side and was gasping like he might never breathe properly again. Jingam raised his head and watched her tend him. When she had finished, she stood and brought wine. He sipped appreciatively. It gave him his voice back. "Thank you," he whispered to her. 

She smiled at him toothily. "No need. My reward is ongoing." Rolling Marco to his back, she went to work with her mouth, slowly, patiently. He had often wondered if this was something she actually enjoyed, and it seemed so now. Jingam allowed himself to lie back, to rest, watching her revive Marco to semi-hardness although it seemed more was not possible. 

After a time, she moved to back him, so skilled. "You are not my friend after all," he declared, mock-petulantly, "but an assassin." But he basked, in no hurry to stop her. Truly, he had missed her. 

Marco propped himself up. Jingam felt an odd sensation for a moment, reclining while looking up at the man, feeling as though he should shift to assume a more dominant position. He suppressed the urge. There was no question of his power here. 

Marco's eyes wandered, lingering on Liangyu's mouth and Jingam's gradually recovering hardness. Then, they traveled back to his host's face. Again, the visible struggle for words.

"You may speak freely." He often wished others would speak their minds to him. But even this permission only loosened tongues a little.

"I hesitate because there is nothing novel I can say given the poets in your employ. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met." His brow furrowed. "It is difficult to acknowledge this. I have never been drawn to touch a man. And although you are as heart-breaking lovely as any woman may be, you are supremely a man." Marco lifted a hand and then flinched back.

"You may," Jingam assented. Calloused fingers skimmed over his chest, brushing a nipple to attention, lower, ruffling silky hair well below his navel. "You are an adventurer by choice. Why is this more difficult than crossing a desert?"

Marco shook his head. And then, "You said you have not done so either."

Jingam sighed. "Unlike you, I have been tempted, many times. But there are the matters of slavery, ambition, and danger to account. Men submit because they must. Or to achieve a promotion or a kill. You had little choice tonight. It should make me wary."

"With all due respect to the lady present, how is that different with women?"

He thought about the flattery his current favorite employed. "The difference is subtle. A woman will never compete for my position or the seats of my father's advisors. Women are, sadly, used in vying for position, I am aware. But they are a quieter threat. Favor is their trade, violence their very last resort."

Marco cleared his throat quietly. "Men cannot feign desire as women can. At least you would know that you are… wanted."

It was a revelation. He brushed it away, remembering to be worldly. "There are drugs."

"Those drugs reveal themselves," Liangyu added, ceasing for a moment her laving. "You would know. The Latin makes an excellent observation." She brushed her hand over Marco's cock, which had not lost its partial firmness in the absence of her touch. "This is real. If I left this room, it would remain real."

Blood surged into Jingam's loins. "My father favors you," he observed to cool himself. It was a source of pique.

Marco laughed. "As an exotic pet, as you say. I provide an outsider's perspective. But I will always be that outsider."

"My prince," Liangyu interjected, "If I may be so bold. I would like to make the most of this night, since you never call for me."

He looked into her huge brown eyes. "I thought it was the right thing, to release you."

She cocked her head. "You could release me to the _choice_."

"Is that ever a choice for women in the machinations of court?"

"Find out," she smiled. She glanced at Marco. "Afterward, I will still be available to you if you wish."

He stroked her shoulder. "I believe I will try other things, if that is well with you."

With a quick movement, she swung astride Jingam. Slowly, she took him in. Perhaps she was merely savoring, but Jingam had a thought that she was showing him off. At bottom, she wriggled, testing the fit as though she had not felt it hundreds of times before. She sighed. Her eyes blinked open. "Perfect. Almost too big but not." She lowered her body along his, allowing her hair to drape over his face. It would be difficult to describe her sinuously excellent movement. She took her time and built herself to frenzy, finally convulsing around him. 

Drifting in that space in which he refused himself the same escalation, both participating and observing her pleasure, Jingam was aware that Marco had moved, was closely watching the join of their bodies. As Liangyu subsided, Marco reached down, and Jingam felt fingers grasp the root of his cock, behind his balls, in a slow, hard caress. Electric bursts sparkled in his field of vision. "Careful," he warned. The touch softened but Marco didn't let go. 

Liangyu slid away, showering his face with light kisses. He felt the cloth again, and heard her pad away behind the screen that shielded his bed. Marco's hand remained. The man's cock had risen again to stand nearly against his belly. His other hand came to encircle Jingam's shaft. For a novice, he could not be said to be shy.

Jingam let his eyes slide closed. It would be so easy to ride this touch to the natural conclusion, to indulge the other man's fascinated curiosity, and to be served, as it befitted the future khan to receive. The sensation of Marco's mouth on him brought his eyes wide open. Reflexively, he entangled a hand in the curly hair. An encouraging noise escaped him, was answered with a low sound in return. The touch was not skilled, but enthusiastic in an unusual way, the giver understanding exactly how it would feel. 

He yanked a pillow beneath his head in order to watch. The sight nearly ended his restraint—a man sucking his cock. While not taboo, it was not common to see between others. Involuntarily, he rolled his hips, holding back from thrusting up. Marco was endeavoring to take in too much of him as it was. 

"Ease off a bit," Jingam said, "choking yourself doesn't make it better." Backing off freed the man's tongue and he was rewarded with a swirling sweep that made him moan aloud. He gave himself a few more luxuriating moments, and then, not to be out-braved, he sat up and tumbled Marco to the bed. 

Pinning him, he slid Marco into his mouth. The taste was rich, the skin smooth and fine against his lips and the inside of his mouth like nothing else. He experimented with different approaches, receiving encouragement for all of them. When he began hearing Italian, he moved with more care. Marco's legs were shaking. 

Moving astride, he felt among the furs for the bottle and dropped a dollop of oil between them. Marco was flung back before him, offering no resistance in his abandon, and Jingam felt the urge again to take him. But this was not a woman's body and it would not respond with rapture. He tightened his thighs, clasping Marco's between them, and braced his hands at the man's shoulders. The first thrust convinced him he had chosen rightly. The smooth slide, chests, bellies, cocks, thighs—all he could think was how much _more_ he would want to do this. 

He was never a loud lover, too refined to tolerate the grunting piggery of most men he had observed. But he spoke, softly, explaining in his mother's tongue the desperate goodness of the moment. Marco was so responsive, mirroring his movements, answering his words with little sounds that weren't quite words. Jingam was fairly certain that Marco could not understand the idiom when he told him to come with him, but he complied beautifully.  
*******

The brief look between them at council the next morning was far less fraught than it had been in months past, more humorful. He went on to hear the debate in a calmer state than he could recall in a long time. He wondered if Hundred Eyes would consider sex a form of kung fu. It would make for an interesting lesson when he inquired.


End file.
